


Are You Fucking Kidding Me, There Are Two Of Them?

by Newtavore



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Double Penetration, Eridan's a Loser, First Time, Flushed Romance | Matesprits, Gentle Sex, How the Fuck Do I Tag, Loss of Virginity, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Rough Sex, Twin Captors?, Twin Solluxes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-07
Updated: 2014-04-07
Packaged: 2018-01-18 12:22:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1428337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Newtavore/pseuds/Newtavore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Eridan Ampora, and, if you are to be honest with yourself, you are the strangest mixture of turned on and confused right now.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Are You Fucking Kidding Me, There Are Two Of Them?

**Author's Note:**

> this is all the fault of my muse and beta reader, who shrieked about twin captor porn at 3am one day and got the idea stuck in my head
> 
> contains weird, sort of au shit and lots of personal head canons about seadweller anatomy and traditions/customs

Your name is Eridan Ampora, and, if you are to be honest with yourself, you are the strangest mixture of turned on and confused right now. 

 

You aren't quite sure how you ended up like this, pinned to a desk with your legs slung around Captor Twin One's waist while Captor Twin Two straddles you and kisses you roughly, because last time you checked, they _really_ didn't like you. They typically spend all hours of the night poking and prodding you, trying to goad you into reacting in less than dignified manners, but you're always faulted for antagonizing  _them_. It's infuriating enough to have made you cry on more than one occasion, though you'd never admit it. 

 

They are your tormentors, the ones who try to make your life miserable, the ones who do nothing but pick and pick and pick until it's all you can do not to haul off and punch one of them, you don't particularly care which. 

 

No, that's not true. Sol, the one pinning you down, the one running his hands over your sides, he's not quite as bad as his twin. _Lux_ is the one you want to hit, the one biting your lips and growling at you like some sort of rabid fucking animal, the one who digs his skinny coding fingers into all your sore spots and sinks his claws into all your secrets and drags them out into the light. He's the one that throws spitballs at the back of your head when you're busy working in the main computer lab, the one who pushes you up against walls, the one who snarls and spits and then denies any and all accusations of having black feelings for you. 

 

Sol just kind of floats around in the background, shrugging whenever his twin does something particularly nasty. So no. You would really like to hit Lux, but all Sol was guilty of was minor teasing and not caring, and if you hit everyone who expressed those two traits, you'd be punching just about everyone you've ever come into contact with. That would be both inconvenient and potentially damaging to your poor fists.

 

Either way, Lux shoves you roughly back against the flat of the desk, nipping at your lower lip in what might be too filled with teeth to call a real kiss, and you yelp when your horns impact the hard surface. 

 

"Lux," Sol says, hands pausing at your hips, thumbs rubbing the protrusions of bone, "Calm down."

 

The kiss gentles, and a tongue laps at the bruised flesh of your lips almost apologetically. Lux's hands grab your hair, pulling you close, and you start to return the kiss, cautiously, in case this is another prank or joke or  _something_. Lux just moans appreciatively into your mouth and tangles his tongues, his fucking  _tongues, plural_ , with yours, running his thumbs over the small, ridiculously sensitive hollows where your earfins connect to your neck, making you shiver. 

 

Sol hasn't stopped smoothing his hands up and down your sides, though he's careful to avoid your gills, and you can feel the warmth of him even through the material of your shirt.  Lux's hands are just as hot against your neck, and suddenly, you feel helplessly overwhelmed. 

 

You pull out of the kiss, panting, ignoring the harsh, upset noise Lux makes in response. 

 

"W-w-w-"

 

You can't even speak, your stutter swallowing your words, your tongue tripping over syllables. 

 

"W-what is this?" you finally force out, choking on a gasp when Lux bends down and mouths your throat, grazing his uneven teeth over untouched skin, "W-what're you doin'?"

 

"We've been trying to get your attention," Sol murmurs, staring down at you and his twin with heavy lidded eyes, smirking ever so slightly, "But you…"

 

"You're so fucking oblivious," Lux snarls against your throat, biting down, and you whine in pain. You hear a whap, and the teeth leave your neck, replaced by lips and tongue, and your whine turns into a gasp midway through. 

 

"I- I though you- but you tw-wo were so fuckin  _mean_  to me," you mutter, and Lux falters, just resting his forehead against the crook of your neck, "I thought you  tw-wo hated me an for the life'a me I couldn't figure out  _w-why_."

 

"…We just wanted to get your attention," the harsher twin says, voice muffled by your skin, licking the quickly bruising bite mark he'd left there, "We just…"

 

"…We couldn't figure out how to talk to you," Sol says, shrugging, and when he pulls his twin away, Lux is blushing and chewing on his lip, refusing to look you in the eye. 

 

"So we decided to try to get you to notice us another way," he finishes, and Sol picked up the sentence where he left off, "Except we aren't too good with, ah, communicating our desires."

 

Looking at them, Lux still straddling your lap and leaning back against Sol, who has your legs wrapped around his waist, you are struck by disbelief and lust at the same time. Lust because, um, hello, you have a set of incredibly attractive twins all over you, and disbelief because  _you have a set of incredibly attractive twins all over you._  


 

Why in the ever loving fuck would they want  _you_? As much as you try to prove otherwise, you are not as suave and put together as you want to appear. You're annoying, pretentious, and impossible to deal with on any sort of continual basis- hell you drove your fuckin'  _moirail_  away, drove her away to _them_ , you might add, because you were too damn needy, why the fuck would they even want to be in the same room as you?

 

They're the _opposite_ of you. They're well liked despite their abrasiveness, attractive, highly skilled in a number of different areas, and you know multiple trolls who would literally kill to have them in a quadrant, any quadrant, including Feferi. 

 

"Is this some sort'a joke?" you say, and Sol flinches a bit. Lux looks like he's about to say something, but Sol elbows him in the gut and he shuts up. 

 

"No joke," Sol says, and Lux adds, "No joke at all, we swear."

 

Their voices are similar, but the lisp is thicker in Sol's, and Lux's is deeper. They blend together well, though, layering and overlapping and you shiver despite yourself. Lux leans over until he's face to face with you, hands on the desk on either side of your head, trapping you under him. 

 

"Can I kiss you?" he asks. 

 

"You seemed perfectly capable'a just takin' w-what you w-wanted earlier," you say, voice shaking. This close, you can see his eyes through those dumbass blue tinted shades he wears, one red, the other blue. He blinks slowly, like a cat, and just stares at you, waiting. 

 

"He's asking your permission now," Sol says, and he's leaned forward, his chest against his twin's back, his hands wrapped around your ribcage, "We're trying to show that we aren't going to be  _complete_  asses about this."

 

"Oh."

 

"You can say no if you want," Lux murmurs, his lips almost brushing against yours. 

 

Do you want? Do you want to say no? You've had a flushcrush on these two assholes since you'd first seen them, before that even, since you'd first seen their pissblood swill stamped across your computer screen. It was the dumbest fuckin thing you'd ever done, falling for them even when they made you miserable, but… 

 

"Yes," you whisper, and he crashes his mouth to yours. It isn't perfect- your teeth click together, his glasses smash against yours and your faces don't quite fit right until he tilts his head a little to the side, but… Well, it's the best kiss you've ever had. Not that you've had much to compare it to. In fact, the only kiss you had to compare it to was the violent, toothy one from about five minutes ago. 

 

You are not very experienced in the romantic arts. 

 

You think he realizes that as you fumble through the kiss, because he moves one of his hands to your face and starts guiding you through the motions, teaching through example. You gasp into his mouth as Sol rakes his nails over your ribs, pressing just hard enough to be felt through your clothing but not hard enough to hurt.  Your hands fly up to Lux's shoulders without you thinking about it, clenching in the soft cotton of his shirt. 

 

Lux pulls away so you can breathe, but not much, your lips still brushing together as you squirm. Sol shoves his hands under your shirt and they're hot against your skin, almost burning. You arch into the touch, which pushes you up against Lux as well and fuck, he's kissing and biting down your neck, leaving a trail of marks and bruises behind him. 

 

"You are so fucking hot," he growls between nips, "Fucking tease, you've been teasing us since we first got stuck on this goddamn asteroid. You and your stupid hair and your stupid clothes and your stupid wands,  _fuck_ -"

 

"What he's trying to say is that this is a dream come true and we've been waiting to sandwich you between us for a long, long time," Sol interrupts, literally shoving his twin off you and onto the floor. Lux flails over the edge of the table with a curse, barely catching himself from hitting the ground with a spark of red and blue, but Sol pays him no mind, yanking you upright and to his chest. 

 

 

Sol's softer than Lux, more pliant, and his kisses are gentle, calm. He cards his fingers through your hair and coaxes you into responding, despite your awkwardness, and you melt against him with a sigh. You jump when hands land on your back, but it's just Lux, pressing against you from behind, and you really are sandwiched between them now, seated on the edge of the desk, chest to chest with Sol and back to chest with Lux, who's got his legs slung around you, with you almost in his lap. 

 

"Off," Lux says, tugging at your shirt, and it seems to be the one thing that the twins agree on because suddenly your shirt is being removed by the both of them, movements mirrored by each other. As soon as the fabric is clear, tossed aside to lay in a heap with your scarf, you fold your arms around your chest, trying to shield yourself from their unabashed staring. 

 

You are aware you aren't a perfect example of trollian fitness. You're narrow and wiry, covered in bioluminescent freckles and vestigial fins in strange places and sunspots and just… generally not all that great looking, not like them. You freely admit you'd looked- they were utterly shameless when it came to walking around the asteroid in much less clothing than they should, and fuck, you were far from the only person looking, but all that did was pound in how different they are from you. 

 

They're fit, with runner's bodies strengthened by the ridiculous tandem gymnastics they perform for fun, fit and toned and everything you aren't, and fuck, you're sure that the second they actually see you without all your clothes they're gonna turn tail and run in the opposite direction, because you're not even nothing special, you're just plain gross. They're  _coders_ , they spend all day locked inside their hive typing on husk tops, they should not look this good!

 

Lux pries your arms away and pins them to your sides, and when you try to hide your face, Sol holds you still, forcing you to meet his eyes. 

 

"Worth waiting for, Lux?" he says, and the strength of his gaze is intense, even through his red tinted shades. You find yourself shivering without knowing why, mouth open like you are about to say something but forgot it at the last second. 

 

"Definitely," the rougher twin moans, biting your bare shoulder, thankfully against hard flesh and not the fragile tines and gossamer membrane of your display fins, and you twitch at the feeling of teeth against your skin. It's good in a painful way, sending heat flaring down your spine, and you bite back a gasp when he digs his jagged teeth in a bit deeper. 

 

"You're glowing," Sol says, sounding mildly surprised, and you can see the faint purple light get a little brighter from embarrassment. Normally, you'd be in complete command of the photophores lining your body, but you tend to lose control of them when you're flustered. The fins lining your shoulders twitch, and Lux runs a curious tongue over them. 

 

Fuck that feels good. It almost feels like getting hit over the head with a bat, except the bat is made of pleasure and instead of a concussion it just feels really fuckin' good and the metaphor is running away with you and your mouth is running away from your mind, spewing out half completed, choked of pleas as you twitch and shiver in their arms. 

 

You never knew those things were that fuckin'  _sensitive_. 

 

"…ks like that felt good," one of them says, you think it might be Sol but it's hard to tell when you're kind of floating in a sea of feel-good. 

 

"Try licking one of the glowy spots," Lux demands, and you feel a split tongue against the center of your chest, and as it runs down the widening trail of photophores your mind goes blank again and the light flares, pulses with the waves of heat wracking your frame. 

 

"Yep, that's another good spot. Man, he's just covered in them, isn't he."

 

"Try the wiggly bits on his head. The earfins."

 

Lux's tongue, you think it's Lux's tongue, laps at the delicate skin. You have to bite your lip to keep your embarrassing noises at bay, because this is completely out of your scope of experience. You know most of your vestigial structures are pointless, ostentatious, and easily damaged, but you never would have guessed they could feel so  _good_. You'd been taught for as long as you can remember to a) not let anyone touch these spots because they're  _that fuckin' delicate_  and b) to never, ever touch them on someone else without explicit permission. 

 

Now you're sitting on a desk in the middle of an empty computer lab on an _asteroid_ rocketing through fucking _space_ letting two trolls you thought hated you as platonically as possible touch you in ways you've never been touched before, and you're such a trembling wreck in their arms you wouldn't be able to stop them even if you tried. 

 

The blood flushing through the membranes of your fins, staining them a deep, showy violet, also seems to make them twice as sensitive as usual because when Lux takes the tip of your earfin into his mouth and sucks you let out the most embarrassing, drawn out noise of pleasure. Nothing like that had ever come out of your mouth before. You didn't even know what to call it- a trill, almost, musical in nature and  _fuckin' hell you're making it again_  because Lux is running his palm over the gill slits on your neck at you can't even handle this, you  _can't_. 

 

You're gasping and whining and you think you try pushing Lux's head away, but your wrists are caught in a flash of red and blue and you're pinned, held still as they do whatever the fuck they want to you and if that isn't the hottest thing you'd ever though of, you don't know what is. 

 

Sol's staring at you again, though, heterochromic eyes focused, unblinking, on your face and the flush of light coming from the luminescent freckles littering your cheeks.

 

"Lux," he says, voice soft, but carrying even over the steadily increasing volume of your own sounds, "Lux, stop for a second."

 

Lux snarls but concedes, releasing your fin and settling against your back. Your breath comes in short, uneven pants, and you clutch at empty air, your arms held aloft by psionics. 

 

"You doing okay?" Sol asks, and it takes you a bit to register the question and even longer to gather up enough small muscle control to nod. He runs his hands over your face, your shoulders, your chest, slow and repetitive, and you can feel yourself relaxing, calming. 

 

"Too much?"

 

"Just a- just a little," you say, voice shaking, and he presses a kiss to your cheek, gently licking at the phosphorescent spots under your eyes and it's nice instead of overwhelming, good, and you feel your breath even out, even as Lux joins in again, tracing patterns into the wiry muscles of your back. 

 

"We'll take it slower," one of them says, you don't know which, you've let your eyes slide shut because you're just… you're floating, high on good feelings and hormones and you're sure they could do just about anything to you right now and you wouldn't object. 

 

Lux is pressing kisses to your shoulders and the back of your neck, but the teeth haven't come out again, and he's scratching down your sides but not with enough pressure to cause harm. Sol's hands are on your hips, your legs wrapped around his waist, and he kisses you again, soft and slow as he rocks against you. 

 

You're dazed and wrecked and slick between the legs and they haven't even gotten you fully unclothed yet, fuck. You're not sure what you're going to do when they actually get to the part where tab A goes into slot B because if it feels anything as good as this you might just die. You think that dying after being handed the one thing you most desperately want in life would be the most fucking ironic icing on the Dave Strider Approved Irony Cake™. 

 

You have no fucking clue who Dave Strider is, but they make one hell of an irony cake. 

 

Sol laves your spots with his tongue, and a finger traces the tines of your earfins as he cradles your face in his hands, holding you steady. They're all over you, the both of them, and you can feel the power of them, the low humming of psi as their doubled horns spark and flicker and you know without a doubt that you are just along for the ride here. They're the ones in control. They have you wrapped up like a present in their arms, their strength, and you gasp as little lambent lines of red and blue trace themselves over your bared skin. 

 

"I have been waiting for this for so fucking long," Lux growls, lapping at the spots along your spine as his hands fall to your belt, fumbling with the metal buckle, "You have no idea, not a single clue, you stupid kelphead-"

 

"-Waited  _so long_ ," Sol groans, the first sign he's displayed of actually getting anything from this, and you yelp as those little dancing sparks of psionic power flare over your skin, sending all sorts of strange fuckin' feelings flooding through your pan. The belt is thrown to one side of the room, and Lux dips his hands into your pants, and fuck his hands are like fire on your cold skin. He skims his fingers over your vestigial ventral fins, and they flutter at the stimuli. 

 

"How many fins do you  _have_?" he asks, and you flush and stutter out something incomprehensible because you know they're dumb, they look stupid but it's not like you can just cut them off, they're a part of you. 

 

A really sensitive fuckin' part of you, apparently. 

 

"I count six," Sol says, and Lux shakes his head, his hair brushing against the back of your neck. 

 

"Seven, he's got one right above his ass too," the twin says with a snigger, and then his hands dip lower and fuck fuck fuck  _fuck_ -

 

You're not quite sure when you allowed your head to fall back on Lux's shoulder, but when you can actually see straight again you're staring at the ceiling and a steady stream of words are falling from your mouth like water, bubbling and rippling over your tongue and oh, you're not speaking Alternian anymore are you. 

 

Nope, you have actually forgotten how to speak your third language. 

 

"I think you broke him," Sol says, but your hearing goes tinny and strange after Lux does something with his hands and you're flooded with the strangest feeling of heat and pleasure and fuck were those psionics, you think those were psionics. 

 

"Lift him up for me will you?"

 

The tingling of power over your skin intensifies and you're actually lifted the shortest height from the desk. You feel airy, weightless, but your mind is starting to come back to you a bit now that no one is touching you directly. Lux pulls at your pants, almost ripping the things before he manages to shuck them off and into the sad pile of clothes on the floor, and you are laid completely bare in front of them. 

 

You're a bit too hazy to be self conscious anymore, but you do think it's incredibly unfair that they're still fully clothed and you are not. Also, why are you still in the air. And why are they staring at you blankly. 

 

"Tattoos, Eridan?" one says, and oh yeah, no one's ever actually seen you without your pants on before. Of course none of them would know, it's not like anyone but you ever pays attention to old customs anyways, otherwise the whole 'trying to get your attention' thing would have gone much smoother. Also maybe people would stop thinking you're such a loser if they just reacted the way they were supposed to, goddammit. 

 

Sol catches your right leg under the knee and holds it out, examining the teal, blue, and purple designs carved into the flesh around your hipbone, just under your ass, down your thigh, and across your knee. 

 

"Never would have expected these," and oh, he doesn't know the half of it. The swirling, detailed tentacles, flowers, and deep sea creatures that twine around your limb were the result of hours of painstaking labour, blood, sweat, and tears. Definitely tears. You are not ashamed to admit there were a lot of tears involved. 

 

"Who did it? I didn't think there was anyone capable of this kind of shit just wandering the beaches of Alternia," Lux mutters, tracing the path of one delicate tendril, making you shiver. 

 

"I did," you reply, in Alternian, though your voice is still suspiciously bubbly and musical, "Was a bitch to make the ink in those colours too."

 

"You made the design?"

 

"And pounded it into my flesh," you snarl, snapping your teeth at their looks of sheer disbelief, "It's a seadweller tradition, okay? It took almost two weeks but I did it, goddammit, now can you please just go back to the touchin' already?"

 

"I think that's something we can manage," Sol says as Lux grins into the back of your neck then licks a trail up your spine, and fuck that's better, so much better than them gawking at you. Whoever is holding you up with their psi drops you into Lux's lap, and with your legs slung over his, your arms still held up and restrained, you're splayed out in a vulnerable, exposed position. 

 

"You both have too many clothes on," you gasp out, groaning as Lux bites you again, his claws raking down your back. Sol obligingly throws off his shirt, and yanks you and Lux across the table to rest at the edge, so he can stand between your spread legs, pressing against you chest to chest. His skin is even warmer against you without the cloth barrier, and you trill as he presses light, open mouthed kisses to the gills lining your throat. 

 

They've both apparently redoubled their efforts to get you to lose your tongue again, because now Lux has one of your pectoral fins in his mouth and Sol's lapping at the sensitive, blood flushed opercula and you can't see straight. 

 

"Fuckin'- _clothes_ -" you gasp out, the words dissolving into a mess of bubbly notes. Sol pulls Lux's shirt off him with psi, and you can feel the heat of both of them from either side and it is perfect. 

 

You're messily dripping violet everywhere by now, a literal puddle forming under you, on the surface of the desk, and you feel sorry for whoever has to use this thing after you, because that is definitely going to stain. Your bulge is knotting around itself, and you desperately wish you could touch it, but your hands are still trapped and they refuse to let you go no matter how hard you tug and whine. All your fins splay to their full extent and flush the same violet as your blood as your body puts on a primitive mating display, even though the two landdwellers you're crushed between could honestly care less about anything other than 'If I put this in my mouth will it make him scream?'

 

The answer is sort of. You don't scream, per say, but that's mainly because you bite down hard enough on your lip to send a small trail of blood dripping down your chin, even as you arch into their touch. Sol tsks at you, actually fucking  _tsks_ , and cleans up the mess with his tongues, following the trail to your mouth and lapping at your lips until you release them with a moan. He kisses you harshly, pushes you hard against the solid wall of his twin, and you're surrounded on all sides by warmth and prickling psi. 

 

His hands dance down your sides, over your hips, and he traces the patterns of your tattoos with white hot fingers, even as his other hand dips low enough for your bulge to finally wrap around it. 

 

Once again, you are proud to say you don't scream, but that's only because all sound except tiny clicks cease pouring from your throat all together. If you thought the fingers on your thigh were white hot, his hand wrapped around your bulge is  _scorching_ , setting your nerves aflame with incandescent pleasure. 

 

His face is awash in a pulse of violet light as your photophores flare, and your head drops back onto Lux's shoulder. Clicks and trills fall from your lips as you arch into his hand, yanking desperately at the psi holding your arms up because all you want to do is grab onto something, ground yourself, but you can't. There isn't even a physical restraint to hold on to, so your hands are left clutching at empty air while you rock between them,  Sol grinding up against you and  _god fuckin' dammit he still has his pants on_. 

 

You trill out a series of notes that you know neither of them will be able to understand, squirming in their hold as little sobs force their way out of your throat. You want to feel them, their heat, their skin against yours but you can't even communicate it to them. Fuck. 

 

Sol seems to get the picture, though, because he pries your bulge from his wrist- fuck, no no  _no_ \- and steps away, just enough to get to his own belt. You twitch and shiver with every small sound of leather sliding across metal, and when it drops to the floor, you force your head up to look at him. 

 

He struggles with his pants, pushing them just far enough down his hips to get to his own bulge, but there's a surprise waiting for you there. 

Of course he has two fucking bulges. Of fucking course. You can't believe it. No, that's the sad part, you can, because of course the two dumbass twins with the duality kink would have not only two sets of horns and you know, _be twins and everything,_  they had to get the downstairs package to go with it. 

 

He strokes himself a few times, letting the two decently sized honey gold appendages twine between his fingers, eyes just staring at you. You can see them sparking behind his shades, and suddenly you want them off. You want to look at his eyes without the obstruction. 

 

He steps forward again and kisses you, all soft lips and tongue, and wraps his free arm around your back, using it and psi to help you up into a kneeling position. 

 

"Just for a minute," he says against your lips, his breath ghosting over your mouth, "Lux, get them off."

 

You hear the clink of another belt behind you, then the shush of cloth against skin before you're shoved back into your original position, only one hundred times better because now Lux is molded against you back and you're feeling skin to skin contact in places you've never felt it before. The slickness of his bulges press against the base of your spine, twisting and curling against your flesh and it's so fucking hot, like molten lava, you just want to fall into their heat and never leave. 

 

And then your bulge is clasped by both of Sol's and you're pitching forward, keens and sobs tearing themselves from your throat as you press your head awkwardly to his shoulder. Lux's hands trail fire up your spine and over your fins, and when he stops to play with the one that ends just above your ass you can't do anything but click and chirr, lost to the sensations they pull from you. 

 

It can't get any better than this. This is it, you're going to die, you're going to keel the fuck over because they're murdering you with pleasure, you didn't even think it was this possible to feel so good. You'd never been able to elicit such reactions from yourself when you tried, but you'd never really tried that hard anyways so that might have had something to do with it. You'd always felt awkward and pathetic, touching yourself, and now you still feel awkward and pathetic but you can't really be assed to care because everything feels so fuckin' good you think your pan's about to melt out of your ears. 

 

Sol groans and rocks against you and you gibber out something that might have been Alternian, might have been sea tongue, you can't even tell anymore, but you know that no matter what language it was in it was probably begging of some sort. Lux is panting into your ear, filthy shit you can hardly understand but it sends a fresh wave of desire aching through you anyways, because his voice is deep and raspy and it's hitting all the right notes. 

 

And fuck, it is possible for it to get better because Lux presses two fingers straight into your nook it burns, really burns and not just because his hand is so much hotter than your insides but you are so fuckin' out of it all you can do is keen at the sharp stretch. 

 

"Fuck, Ed you're so tight," he snarls, and his fingers curl and hit something inside of you that makes your eyes cross because suddenly everything is out of focus, hazy and floaty and you shiver and tremble as Lux thrusts his fingers hard against whatever he's touching. 

 

Sol buries his hands in your hair and holds your head against his chest as you jerk and shudder, mouthing sloppily over your horns and you can't breathe, can't think, can't focus on anything but their hands and their touch and it's so fucking overwhelming, it's too much. You pull at the invisible bonds holding your wrists above your head, pleading wordlessly for them to please, let you go, let you touch, let you hold on to them because it feels like getting caught in a rip tide, and you've never felt so fuckin' helpless in your life. 

 

One of them finally, finally takes mercy on you and releases you, and your hands fly up to Lux's horns, hanging on for dear life. Your touch makes him bite harshly at your ear, and you yelp because that actually hurt, and the pain cuts through the push and pull of pleasure and clears your head a bit. 

 

"Lux!" Sol snaps, and a spark of red and blue smacks his twin in the face, "Be careful."

 

He eases the pained flesh with his tongue, and his hands curl over your hip and in your nook. 

 

"Sorry," he murmurs, and you just give a little trill and flick of the fins before grinding eagerly down on his fingers, pain just a hazy afterthought. 

 

A third finger's added, then, and after you're stretched a bit more, a fourth, and by that point you're kind of achy but in a good way and you are hideously, inexcusably empty because Lux just pulled his hand away and why would he do that? 

 

You tug at his horns and whine, and he licks the gills on your neck before your body is wrapped tightly in psi. You can feel the hum of power skim over your oversensitive skin, and you warble a few bars in response to the stimuli, squirming as you're lifted a bit over Lux's lap. 

 

"You want it?"

 

You can't even vocalize real words at this point, of course you fucking want it, and it's no fair just _teasing_ you like this when they've both been teasing you the  _entire fucking time_ - 

 

"Come on, ED, you gotta say it out loud," Lux taunts, and the goading makes you curse, high and shrill and in a language they don't understand before you try to force your throat to pronounce words that are difficult enough under normal circumstances, much less while you're near incoherent. 

 

" _Ysssss_ ," you choke out, face twisting as you try to respond in Alternian. You gibber out a few pleas in sea tongue, as well, but they don't get it, of course they don't get it, they can't understand a single word you're saying. 

 

"I'm sorry, what was that? I don't understand, I asked you if you wanted it."

 

You sob and try to writhe, but the tight grip of psi leaves you almost immobile. Maybe this is it, maybe they're going to leave you like this until you fucking _die_ , maybe this was the plan all along. Tease you, get you hopeful, excited, then dump you off to the side. Fuck, that's the last thing you want. You literally do not give a single fuck what kind of quadrant they're after, or even if they even  _want_  a quadrant anymore, you just want one of them inside you, _now_. 

 

"G- _giwe_ -" you gasp, gagging on the foreign syllables, and Sol, god, perfect beautiful Sol takes pity on you and leans forward to kiss you again, licking the tears off your cheeks. 

 

"That's good enough, Lux, give him what he wants."

 

You're still held tight, but you're lowered enough for Sol to guide the tip of one of his twin's bulges into your nook and it's like fire racing up your spine, like getting stabbed without the pain, warmth and heat and fuck, you can't breathe, it's too much and not enough all at once and you're going  _mad_. 

 

You're so out of it, you don't even notice them guide you down, till Lux is in to the hilt and you're babbling shit like a madman, but you're too far gone to actually be embarrassed and besides, its not like they can understand you begging for them anyways. 

 

"You're good?" Sol asks, lightly touching the side of your face, fingers brushing over your spots, and you nod because you can't stem the flow of absolute filth coming from your mouth in order to say a simple  _yes_.

 

 "You think we can fit another one up there?"

 

You allow your head to fall forwards, onto Sol's chest, and nod furiously, a broken moan tumbling from your mouth. Yes. Yes you want the other one too, you want both of them, fuck you want whatever they want to throw at you as long as this feeling doesn't fucking stop _you will do whatever the fuck they want_ , just _please don't stop_. 

 

Sol pets your hair, gentle hands a counterpoint to the rough way Lux grips your hips and lifts you up just enough to let the other bulge slide home, twining around the first one and the stretch burns in a way that isn't entirely pleasant but you can take it, you're good at dealing with shit that hurts to get to stuff that doesn't. And as soon as Lux starts moving, small little twitches inside you, you definitely get to the stuff that doesn't because if feels like someone set you on fire except pain isn't a factor anymore, it's just sheer, burning pleasure and you have literally felt nothing like this ever before in your short, pathetic life. 

 

You think you might be clinging to Sol's shoulders a bit too tight, but Captor Twin One doesn't say anything about it while he's whispering a litany of utterly salacious things into your earfin, snaking his tongue out to lick it between every sentence or so. Lux's own claws are digging into the skin of your hips, thought he's careful around the colours of your tattoos. You're glad because scabs over those things take forever to heal and you are not looking forward to attempting to alchemetize ink in order to pound the design over new scars. 

 

Lux snarls and thrashes inside you, done with being gentle, and fuck it hurts and feels good at the same time. Your body is confused, you're confused by all the crazy sensations flooding through you, all you can do is throw your arms around Sol's neck and ride it out, and you can't even technically do that because Lux's grip is so tight over your hips you can't even move. He's in complete control over you, over your body, and that thought sends another wash of heat ricocheting up your spine. 

 

Sol pushes you back and pins you against Lux's chest, and you're trapped between them and surrounded on all sides by fuckin' heat and all you can do is tremble and gasp and make the most ridiculous, stupid noises but when you try to quiet yourself Sol snaps his teeth and growls and tells you to make all the fucking noise you can. Then Lux picks you up and drops you on his bulges and you can't see, can hardly breathe, and definitely have no chance of keeping yourself quiet ever again. You actually think the cry they pulled out of you with that one echoed loud enough to be heard all over the fuckin' asteroid, and good. 

 

Let everyone know you're getting your brains pailed out by the hottest pieces of ass this side of the galaxy. 

 

Speaking of pails, you are going to need one, soon, because Sol's bulges are wrapped around yours again and Lux is thrashing hard inside of you, and the doubled sensations are almost too much to bear. You are almost in so much pleasure it hurts. Fuckin' hell, they are going to  _kill you_. 

 

"You're close, aren't you," Sol pants, lapping his tongues over your gills, and you whine and nod and plead for a bucket in sea tongue because you can't even  _think_  in Alternian anymore, much less force it out of your mouth. A bucket drops from someone's sylladex and is shoved between your legs, right by the edge of the desk, and Lux bites the tines of your earfins.

 

"Come on, ED, come. Come for us," he growls, and he and Sol start speaking in unison, "You're so close, let us see you come, Eridan, come on," and that's it, you're done, you're so fuckin' done. 

 

Orgasm is like the cumulation of all the pleasure they've given you, all at once, and your voice gives out, leaving you rasping out quiet, incomprehensible sounds as you stiffen, fingers scrabbling against Sol's shoulders for some sort of handhold. Your violet spills everywhere, and the sound of your material hitting the metal sides of the pail makes you shiver because that is the lewdest fucking noise you think you've ever heard, until you hear the twins moaning in tandem. You're still riding high, every twitch and thrust of Lux's bulges inside of you making you force out that much more material, and suddenly his grip tightens over your hips hard enough to bruise and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder, and you feel heat unlike anything you've felt up until this point flood your insides and  _the fucker actually used you as a fucking bucket-_!

 

Your voice hitches and you keen, shivering as knife edged pleasure hits you because you are filled with his material and it is literally spilling out of you and into the bucket and you can't, you just can't it's too much it _hurts_. Sol must have come around the same time as Lux because your front is covered in their color as well, and he's panting against the shoulder that doesn't have Lux's teeth embedded in it, his hands buried in your hair, stroking the beds of your horns, and you're _done_. 

 

You barely feel it when Lux slides out of you, or when your own bulge retracts. You're distantly aware of someone speaking, but you aren't sure what they're saying or if it's even directed at you so you just kind of remain flopped over Sol's chest because he's warm and comfortable and you're tired, tired and worn out and sort of high right now- this is what high feels like, right? No wonder Gam's always downing those pies like they're gifts from the gods, you probably would too, if it meant you could feel like this all the time. 

 

More murmuring, a hand petting your hair, and you're moving, being lifted up and held in someone's arms, but there's no way you'd be able to walk in your condition so you don't complain. You don't think you can string together coherent sentences in any language right now, anyways, and you're actually just kind of glad they didn't dump you on the desk and leave you sprawled out, covered in their genetic material. 

 

There's the sound of running water, then something cool and wet touches your skin, wiping away the mess of tears and drool from your face and the sticky, viscous yellow and purple fluid from between your legs. You're cleaned up and redressed in something soft and warm and about three sizes too large before you're dumped onto something equally soft and warm, and surrounded on both sides by the twins, who wrap you up in their arms and just… cuddle. 

 

Their arms are solid weights over you, barring you between them and you feel stupidly, ridiculously safe here. Like you have nothing to fear, like nothing could hurt you. You feel cared for. Sol tuck your head under his chin and purrs, nuzzling your horns, and Lux presses against you from behind, one hand rubbing against the twanging muscles of your hips and lower back.  

 

"Hearts, ED," they both say, voices quiet, and you trill, earfins twitching, before you are physically incapable of staying awake any longer. You fall asleep to their voices as the talk above your head, and wonder if this is what paradise is. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> the funny thing is that the title can apply to either the twins or their double-fuckin'-bulges


End file.
